


Interludes With Interruptions

by tielan



Series: Everybody Needs Good Neighbours [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neighborly interruptions to the flow of daily (or nightly) life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interludes With Interruptions

The knock on Steve’s door is an unwelcome interruption to his thought process, and for a moment he contemplates just ignoring it. Problem is, if it’s one of his friends, they’ll just start calling him until he picks up or opens the door. And if it’s anyone else, then they’re probably knocking for a good reason.

So he puts the tablet down on the coffee table, gets up to turn on the porch light, then opens the door. And blinks a little at the sight of Maria-the-mailbox-lady standing on his doormat, looking like she just got home from work, with a bundle of mail in her hand.

“Uh,” he says, most eloquently. “Hi.”

“Misdelivered mail,” she says, offering him two of the letters. “They looked like bills and your light was on, so I thought I’d drop them in now.”

“Thanks.” He takes the letters and tells himself they’re not still warm from her touch, although they totally are. “They always seem to deliver your mail correctly. At least, I never get your mail.”

She smiles, a faint twitch of her mouth, and the cool elegance transforms to a softer beauty. “I put the fear of misdelivery into the postie. Maybe you need to do the same.”

Steve grins. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Then, because she looks like she’s about to walk away, he asks, “You’re home late tonight. Deadlines?” Abruptly, he realises that he’s just revealed that he knows her work schedule – start early, finish late, but not usually this late. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“Demands of the job,” she says with a shrug. “It happens from time to time. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He glances back towards the living room, and regrets it when she takes that as a cue.

“And I’m interrupting you. Next time, I’ll just shove it in the mailbox for you to pick up.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the interruption.” Not when it’s her. “It gives my brain a break. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She heads off down the path, and Steve rests a shoulder against the door, watching her go.

She realises this when she turns to close the gate, her head cocking in query. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to go inside.”

He’s not close enough to see her roll of the eyes, but he can imagine it. “It’s fifteen yards, Rogers.”

“So I won’t have to wait very long. Unless you plan to stand there and chat all night.”

She gives him the finger and stalks up the path to her door.

Steve waves as she shoulders it open, and grins as she glares at him again. It gives him a lovely warm feeling in the pit of his belly. “Night, Maria!”

He doesn’t get an answer beyond the firm closing of her door.

* * *

Maria’s set up her ‘wall of herbs’ so it doesn’t need more than a water every now and then, even in the middle of summer. But it’s been a hot few days, and the basil’s looking a touch wilted, so she goes out to pick a few leaves for a salad and to water the wall.

When the next door back door opens, she glances over – a reflex action, nothing more – and lifts a hand in answer to Steve-the-not-stripper’s cheerful hail.

“How’s it going?”

“It’s going.” She shrugs as she tips the last of the watering can out. “I’m glad it’s nearly the weekend, though. You?”

“Yeah. A bad week – deadlines, do-overs…I’m having a steak and a beer. That should tell you how bad it is.”

“I thought that’s the baseline meal for most guys.” Maria observed, noting the size of the steak and the smoking BBQ behind. She’d wondered about the scent of charcoal in the air, but hadn’t worried too much – in a neighbourhood like this, someone was always having a summer cookout. “Steak and beer – with the steak being optional.”

Steve grins. “True. But I don’t feel like dealing with restauranteurs and waitstaff tonight. So it’s just me, the BBQ and the steak.”

“Ah, but is that steak marinated?”

“Nope. But I will put a little magic mushroom meat dust on it.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. And Maria’s heart bashes itself against her breastbone before she makes herself breathe evenly and ask, “Magic mushroom meat dust?”

“Dried porcini mushrooms, salt and pepper, ground fine. Sprinkle on meat. Eat.” He tilts his head. “You want to come over and I’ll show you?”

Is he inviting her over for dinner? With that smile? Is this _flirting?_ Maria is not great at the social cues, and – assuming she hasn’t gotten her wires crossed – what does one do when one’s extremely hot neighbour invites you over for a spontaneous BBQ and ‘magic mushroom meat dust’?

Nat-in-her-head snickers. _Oh God, you’re sad, Maria._

Yes. Yes, she is. But she can’t help thinking of the forward consequences. That’s the way her mind works. So there’s only one reasonable answer.

“No. Thanks.” She’s proud of managing it without stuttering. Cool, calm, and collected, rather than the blithering _mess_ she feels like inside. “I’ve already got dinner prepped.”

“Oh, of course.” Steve glances down at the steak. “Well, maybe some other time?”

“Sure.” Maria hesitates, then reaches over to the parsley, sprouting exuberantly out of the recycled soda bottle, and breaks off a sprig. She takes it over to the fence and, when Steve brings the plate over to the fence at her gesture, drops it beside the steak. “My contribution to tonight.”

He stares down at the little green garnish, and Maria has a moment when she thinks she’s gone too far, been too familiar.

Then he laughs. “Thank you, Maria.”

Fifteen minutes later, after she’s gone inside and is prepping her own dinner, there’s a knock on her front door. When she goes to open it, she finds Steve standing on her front porch with a forkful of medium-to-well-done steak seasoned with ‘magic mushroom meat dust’, and a hopeful grin on his face.


End file.
